His Mistress
by mistressvoldemort
Summary: St. Mungo's psychiatric doctor Danielle Andrella has been sent to stay at Azkaban to study the case of "His Mistress," a girl involved directly with the return of Lord Voldemort. A story of possession.
1. Prologue

Prologue

_1:00 am_

_1__st__ November 1981_

Seven-year-old Lemily awoke from her slumber quite suddenly as if someone had been shaking her into rousing. Pulling back the covers from her delicate little body she looked around her room to find the source of her waking, but only her teddies and dolls stared back at her, equally bewildered.

Stepping down from her bed she started to move gradually as if being led towards her bedroom door by an invisible companion who was silently encouraging her out into the open.

She wiped her tired eyes with a closed fist, confused by her own actions but naturally curious as to where she was going and stumbling in the dark Lemily made her way out onto the landing. From here she could hear her parents breathing in the next room, rolling about in their sleep, undisturbed and peaceful. Words appeared, unlike her own, across her mind, _there is no need to wake them._

Conquering the stairs herself, Lemily wandered down through the house, unafraid and almost comforted by this _feeling_ she was being drawn towards, like a moth to the flame she could feel the warmth of the attraction, but could not see the danger ahead of her.

The kitchen, as Lemily entered, illuminated in a ghostly haze by the moon, was noticeably colder than the rest of the house. Lemily soon felt the bitter sting of the wind when it invaded her nightdress and probed her with it's icy fingers, though it couldn't keep her attention for long as the sound of the door creaking open on it's hinges distracted her completely.

_Does someone want to come in the house? _She thought, blinking to adjust her vision in the dim-light, the constant sound of the door swinging sounded to her like a light consistent knocking, something that was deliberately seeking her attention, beckoning her to enter the garden and to join it.

"Hello?" her timid voice sounded almost loud to her in this stillness and approaching the door with eyes wide she called out into the garden, "anyone there? Are you cold outside?" Yet no answer came.

Impatient now, small Lemily stepped out into the garden. Her bare toes curled into the moist grass, squinting she continued onward till she reached the centre. From here Lemily could see the whole garden and started to look for her invisible friend.

The wind here was more ferocious, but that was not the cause of her shivering. Looking up to the sky, Lemily could feel an electricity in the air, an indescribable buzz she did not understand, pricking at her skin and hair. From not so far off she could hear cheering in the streets, the sound of happy people active, despite the lateness, hooting and laughter.

With a bang sky was suddenly lit up with fireworks and firecrackers, their howls and screams deafening and causing Lemily to fall back into the flowerbeds, shaken.

For a brief moment she felt as if she was not the only one in the garden, sharing this odd and bewildering moment and that there was _another_, the one who had compelled her to wake and witness this, who too was watching the sky celebration, yet with a sense of distaste, fury and was it . . . Fearing?

"What are they cheering?" she questioned, not only to herself but to the invisible entity that she could feel surrounding her. There still came no answer, yet she knew it was there beside her.

After a moment's silence, the fireworks once again erupted, flaring in the darkness and with another surge of cold she felt the presence sweep past her within the breeze and leave her feeling quite alone.

Of course, Lemily didn't realise that this celebration was not only for her to see on this night, but for the world to witness. Lemily was unaware that many people, adults and children alike, were in their gardens, setting off fireworks and partying the night away, making toasts to long healthy lives and hugging and kissing, drinking and laughing.

Little Lemily did not know just yet that the dark wizard, Lord Voldemort, had been defeated and that this celebration was the expression of joy and relief of all witches and wizards everywhere, though Lemily would soon find out in the morning, upon waking in the lawn, to see the smiles on her parents faces and to tell her they were free. Free from fear and darkness and that they'd hug and kiss her until she giggled for them to stop.


	2. Chapter One

_19 years later . . ._

Chapter One

The Doctor from St. Mungos

_7:00pm_

_Azkaban Prison_

Dr Danielle Andrella had been sent from St. Mungos Hospital to Azkaban prison, a specialist in her area of psychiatry and treating of the mentally ill, to meet her new (and possibly most important) patient, one who happened to be a prisoner of Azkaban and a patient who could soon meet with the mouth of a Dementor if Andrella found them to be too dangerous or incurable.

Yet despite this morbid pressure upon her, Andrella could not help but feel a thrill of excitement as her footfalls reverberated upon the dim lit corridors of Azkaban, following obediently behind two officers and an Azkaban nurse, for she knew this case-study could change her career and perhaps even her life.

After the death of Lord Voldemort, Andrella had been on demand at hospitals and psychiatric wards to analyse many of the surviving Death Eaters that had been taken captive. She had been requested to help determine which of them were still a threat and to find others who were victims of the Imperius curse, though she had declined their cases hastily as she hadn't felt the passion for them as she did for _this _particular patient.

Andrella's eye had always been for the crème de la crème of the Death Eater posse and this could only mean the infamous 'Lemily Hann' or as the press had nicknamed her, "_His_ Mistress" along other crude names they'd given The Dark Lord's shady young follower. Little was known about her story and it was now Andrella's job to find out.

Andrella had wanted to study the girl since she'd heard of her existence, she had wanted to pick the brain of the lady who was considered perhaps even as an equal in the Dark Lord's eyes.

What dark and mysterious wonders would she find? Andrella grinned at the realisation that she would soon be finding out. . .

Andrella noticed that she could still smell the salt of the sea, even down in the deeper parts of the jail. The tunnels that had been carved far into the rock, many cavern-like corridors lit only by candles that danced like demons, skipping and flickering when droplets of sea water trickled onto their wax bases and caused them to hiss.

Andrella was sure she could hear whispers behind the heavy wooden cell doors that they passed but shook her head and blamed her imagination for overacting. The walls, with the passing shadows and moist brickwork really gave her the impression she was walking into a fleshed nightmare, but she was too sensible for such thoughts as that.

This was the lowest part of the prison, where they held their most dangerous of prisoners, there were no windows here and no sound, bar the occasional howl of sea wind that stirred every now and again as if to remind them there was an outside world, beyond this.

As the corridors became their darkest, the small party came to a halt and turned to Danielle, their expressions almost sad, their dull eyes cast upon her, huddled almost in the vast dark space.

"Hann is down there," spoke the prison nurse quietly, indicating to a cell nearer the end of the lane, blacked out, the candles there extinguished. "We'll introduce you to Hann tomorrow, but this will be the route you take to access her."

"She's sleeping?" Andrella replied, her voice soft and understanding.

"Perhaps."

For a moment Andrella was sure she had heard a hint of doubt in the voice of the nurse-guide but discarded the need to analyse the reasoning behind it, people working here were naturally on edge for the most part, she reminded herself.

"Would you like me to show you to your own quarters?" the nurse piped up, breaking the still that had grown a little uncomfortable in the dank atmosphere.

Andrella regained composure and smiled politely, "Oh, yes, of course, that would be wonderful."

Andrella noticed her own cheeriness here, as if their contrasting dull voices gave her an insight to the differences here at the Azkaban prison. For a moment Andrella could feel their segregation and felt a slight sense of alarm.

"It's _this _way," the nurse replied blandly and once again they were off, winding back up to the surface.

There was a lighter side of Azkaban, Andrella discovered, were the officers, guards, doctors and nurses inhabited. The walls here were white-washed and there were windows that would reveal a view far out to the ocean in the sunlight. She looked forward to seeing it sometime.

There was sound of conversation rather than whispers and trickling water, there were smiling faces replacing the darkness, there was movement here and a sense of busyness that seemed to lighten the morale.

Briefly, Andrella had been shown the canteen, living-rooms, games rooms (and even a gym) for the employees to relax or to work, to escape from the overwhelming negative labyrinth that was built below their feet.

"I never imagined Azkaban to be so big," Andrella began, as they passed several offices, heading in the direction of the sleeping quarters.

"We take prisoners from around the world," replied the nurse in a matter-of-fact tone, without much expression, "we have around 300 here at the moment and around 150 members of staff, excluding the Dementors of course."

Andrella chuckled, only to realise the nurse had no smile. Quickly, she asked "where do the Dementors stay?"

"Down in Hell."

"Hell?" Andrella raised her eyebrows, humoured.

"Employees gave the deepest tunnels of Azkaban _that _nickname for obvious reasons. No one goes down there. The Dementors care for themselves."

Andrella nodded, taking it in with a sense of awe, "and I take it these quarters are called . . .?"

"Heaven? I don't think so."

Then they both walked in silence until they reached the door number 98 where Andrella was handed her key and small bag of luggage.

After bidding a quick goodnight to her guide, Andrella closed herself into her bedroom and set down her things, glancing across to the mirror that sat above her sink, a few smudges creating false imperfections on her reflection.

Danielle Andrella had a sophisticated prettiness about her, with her brown ringlets curled up and fastened beneath a nurses cap which she removed and cast aside. She would dress smart and professionally for all occasions, but for bed she donned the simple nightdress and gown Azkaban staff had offered her.

The room was small but not cramped, and there was a clinical style about the place, a simple bed with an iron frame, a single mirror and a sink below it. There was a small bathroom door beside the window, from which Andrella could hear occasional splatters from the waves outside however it was too dark to see anything out there at this time.

Though it was only 9 o' clock her body felt as if it were later. Sighing and mind whirring with thoughts of the days to come, she decided to get as much rest as possible. Placing her folders down on the bedside table, Andrella clambered into bed and pushed up her pillow under her, adjusting for comfort.

It felt like a relief to pull up the sheets up over her, cool like a tide. Pausing, Andrella could tell she had a lot to learn from this place and that she would soon be delving deeper into the mind of her most interesting subject, and to tunnel into the thoughts that were boring down into the darkness and further, caverns that smelt of sweat and salt . . .

She could almost taste the strange bitterness of it all, feel the vastness, _become_ the subject.

Smiling to herself, Andrella waved her wand and the candlelight diminished, enveloping her in a salty night. Her head sunk into the pillow and Andrella fell to sleep without struggle.

Andrella had only pleasant dreams that night.

The morning came on swift wings, sunlight shining through the window with a sense of urgency, waking Andrella and warming her eyes.

Getting up without hassle Andrella walked over to her window to first see the view from Azkaban, which she had been looking forward to since her arrival.

In this daylight she could see far out into the horizon. The water was calm, peaceful and glittering in the rays, it's motion settling and repetitive.

She could see no buildings out here, no busy cities or rushing people, just the overwhelming sense of calm power before her, the ocean her huge barrier between the world and this place.

After a short while, Andrella turned away to dress herself. She then brushed her teeth and combed her hair, pulling it back from her face and replacing the cap from the previous evening, slipping on her shoes and sitting down on her bed once more to address her study before making her way to breakfast.

The files had been sent to her before making her way to Azkaban and contained notes and clippings which Andrella had absorbed, ready for her study.

'_Miss Lemily Hann has come to us in a maniacal state. She continuously screams for her "master" the recently deceased Lord Voldemort. She will speak only of him. Miss Hann does not stop crying. For the time being, we've sent the Dementors to patrol elsewhere. We will need her calm if we are to begin questioning her. . .'_

Once focused in her work, Andrella took her files with her to the canteen, joining the bustle of other members of staff as they got their morning fill, readying themselves for the day ahead.

Andrella wasn't sure whether it was the excitement, or the sunlight through the open windows that was powering her positive attitude. Whatever it was, she was grateful for it.

"You alright there?" came a male voice from behind, causing Andrella to look up from her work, surprised to have been addressed at all, amongst the mass of others swarming to their food.

Andrella turned her head and was faced with a man wearing white robes, a grin plastered across his face. His eager eyes were glittering blue and his hair ash-blonde and combed in all directions.

"You're Dr Andrella aren't you?" he spoke, his smile becoming more gentle, creasing his equally gentle features. "I'm Dr Umbridge, your assistant. I've been working on my own study these past few months," he held out a strong hand to her.

Andrella took his hand and shook as he sat down to join her, arranging his food tray and preparing to eat.

"Though you can call me Casey ," he continued, pulling a hair from his bacon, "I'm not too fond of my last name. . ."

"Umbridge, as in the -"

"As in the woman who took over Hogwarts," he spoke almost jovially about it.

"Is she -"

"She's my mother, yes and she's here too, of course not in the sense that _we_ are . . ." He grinned at Andrella and patted her back.

Andrella then realised that she must have been pulling a concerned expression towards his laid back attitude as he continued with, "don't worry, we're nothing alike."

"I see."

"I was a Doctor here a long time before my mother was imprisoned. We never really had much contact anyway, we have very different views."

"You're not an extremist?" Andrella suggested plainly.

"Exactly." Casey nodded and began to eat hastily, so that he could continue conversation between mouthfuls. "I don't see her often. I think that it's best that I don't."

Andrella said nothing else and turned back to reading, not wanting to pass judgement on a woman she'd never met nor analysed.

That was a gift Andrella had been given as she was open-minded and non-judgemental.

Until she'd met a person and broken down their minds, she had no real idea of them and didn't care to. It didn't matter what the press had labelled that person, or what she'd heard of them, Andrella had to see the evidence in front of her, to fully understand it and to therefore judge it.

Perhaps that was why she came so highly recommended for the more disturbed of cases. She was thankful none-the less, as it made her job that much more interesting.

"So, you're looking forward to meeting _His_ Mistress?" Casey started up, once his food had been devoured.

"Lemily Hann you mean?" Andrella corrected. She had never been fond of the press' mockery of her patients.

"Yeah, the Hann girl. The one He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named took in."

It had been a while since Andrella had heard someone refer to Voldemort in that way and she felt almost bemused by it.

Since Voldemort's death, the fear of saying his name had evaporated into nothing, people no longer worried about such superstitions. People felt as if they had been freed from his reign of fear, for good.

"You mean Voldemort?"

Casey laughed, running a hand through his hair, "yes, that's what I meant. Forgive me. I often forget he's really gone."

Andrella's brow furrowed, "how do you mean?"

"Well, you'll understand what I mean when you meet _her_. It's like she keeps him alive somehow," Casey's voice drifted for a moment, as if lost in thought.

"He's definitely dead," Andrella finished for him, rather sternly. "Perhaps she keeps him alive in her memory, but that's it."

"Yes, yes, you're right." Casey's smile returned and he was bought back to the real world once more. "So, you've been told what she's like, right?"

Andrella shook her head. "All I have are these notes," she indicated to the folders spread open before her, "and they briefly describe her being, but nothing much of her past."

"We know very little about her," Casey sighed, "I think that's why they asked for you specifically."

Andrella watched him, her attention now focused.

"They want to know about her, they want to know _everything_, before, you know, they send her for the _kiss_."

"I understand," Andrella bowed her head, collected her things and getting up to stand, "I'll do my best to gain as much information from Hann. It may take a while, but this is why I am here."

Andrella noticed an excitable glimmer in Casey's eyes, almost childlike.

"I'm _very_ glad to be accompanying you," he said "these past few months she's settled. Hann's less emotional. She might just _tell_ us . . ."

Andrella gave a smile this time, in agreement. Together they left the canteen.

Both Casey and Andrella walked quietly back along the same route she had walked the previous day, deep down towards the dangerous prisoners cells, down into the lower sections of Azkaban.

It was a little easier to see down there in the daytime, yet the temperamental candles were still the main source of light.

The atmosphere surrounding both Doctors and the prison guards was thick with anticipation and thrill. The closer they came to the Hann girl's cell, the more agitated they became.

Andrella could see the lines of age and stress upon the guards faces, illuminated in orange. She wondered for a moment how long must they have lived in such a brutal environment and how much of this could the soul truly bear before it broke. . .

"You'll find the girl is chained," spoke one of them, his voice tight, handing Andrella a candle from the wall. "There will be candles inside also. You will be able to see clearly."

Andrella bowed her head as a thank you.

"Both myself and my partner will accompany you in the room at the times of interview, serving as your protection," he explained. "We will remain in the corner as to not disturb."

Andrella smiled at them kindly and they seemed to appreciate that more than words, almost flattered to have been listened to at all.

"I will be by your side as witness and in awe," Casey joined in, his grin a flash of glitter in the darkness.

"I will also be recording the interviews as evidence," he signalled to the magi-cam 200 in his hands.

Andrella then realised how close they were to His Mistress' cell, several metres away. A flickering of light could be seen beyond the little barred window, from which the Hann girl would be sitting, waiting . . .

Andrella swallowed. She could now feel the hairs on her skin rising, her fingers trembled a little as she pulled a quill from her robe and adjusted her paper in her arms.

"I shall start with simple questions," Andrella said, more to herself than to the others, "and we shall see how it goes from there. It states here she is quite compliant, so I don't think this will be too difficult. I just need it to be focused in there. All my attention _must_ be on the Hann girl."

There was a silent agreement amongst them.

"I'm not just finding out what she has _done_, I am finding out who she is, her true essence, you understand?"

There were mumbled "yes ma'ams," closely followed by silence.

Satisfied, Andrella signalled for the prison guards to open the door. The key was a flash of metal, soon lost in the mass of the wooden door.

From beyond, Andrella heard the insistent echoes of many locks opening, one after the other, each breaking the silence like a steady drum, until there was nothing more to come and the door opened gradually with the wood grinding against the hard, cold floor, revealing what was behind, like a skin peeling from it's source.


End file.
